


deviation

by Pandasushiroll



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Oh God Yes, POV Steve Harrington, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28587681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandasushiroll/pseuds/Pandasushiroll
Summary: An alternate take on that shower scene from season 2.ORBilly propositions Steve in the shower.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	deviation

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo hi. Hello. :3 this is my first poke at this pairing and it was super fun to write. I am OBSESSED. 
> 
> Anyway there is a part 2 planned for this already I just need to finish it up.

_ Plant your feet.  _

Yeah, sure. He’ll plant his feet. He’ll plant a foot right up Hargrove’s  _ ass. _

__ Steve, as hard as he tries, cannot get the other boy’s words out of his head. Furiously scrubbing his scalp does little to alleviate the annoyance boiling in his blood. Fuming. Fuming with thoughts of murder and great violence-- _ great  _ violence might be a stretch but that was beside the point--he keeps roughly dragging fingers through his hair. Long locks plastered to his skull in flat grumpy splotches, laved with gloops of foamy shampoo. It looks like he got a really bad dye job. 

Maybe this is hell. High school hell.

Steve feels like it  _ has _ to be. A perpetual loop of him trying to figure out how to fix things and the world going “not today Steve, fuck you.” Before throwing him on his ass. He stood there in a vicious cycle: contemplating the best way to physically get his foot up Billy Hargrove’s ass (in the safest possible manner because honestly the guy  _ would  _ fight back and he has an intimidating amount of muscle) when the subject of his irritation strides in. With his little lackey.

He sneers, like an asshole, and reiterates his point from earlier. That Steve didn’t  _ plant his feet.  _

For the most part, his words are ignored, until he says, “Maybe it just isn’t your day, man.” 

Yeah, more like it’s not his  _ year.  _ Furious, he turns just enough to fix Billy with the sternest glare he can muster on the spot. It does little to affect Billy. In fact, it gets a pleased little smirk. It does not make him cower in fear. 

Since Steve isn’t itching for a fight, he huffs and focuses on the hot spray of water rushing over his skull. He keeps scrubbing in hopes that if he seems distracted enough, Billy will drop the conversation. For a few moments, he has hope. Maybe Billy is tired. Maybe he feels like throwing him down on the court is enough of a punishment. He isn’t looking so he doesn’t catch the muffled exchange between Billy and his lackey, but the lackey leaves. 

Steve swallows. 

“Harrington.” It’s said softly enough that Steve almost misses it. He glances over with a deep frown, but Billy is still smirking. That annoying fucking smirk. “You need to take a load off.”

“Yeah? Thanks for the world class advice.” He hisses with more bite than he means to, but he’s frustrated and his back hurts. The shower has been helping, but with Billy standing here it's a glaring reminder of how he’d thrown him down so easily. He looks over, only to snarl something else, but he’s entirely caught off guard by the sight of Billy’s hand travelling down the front of his chest. Instead of snarling he sputters, “Wh-what the hell are you doing?”

The other boy chuckles, low and deep in his chest. The sound is more like a rumble. The kind you can  _ feel  _ if you’re close enough. “Taking a load off.”

“Can’t you wait until you get home? Jesus!” He starts scrubbing hastily. 

He hears Billy hum. “Why don’t you let yourself relax?”

It’s definitely the heat of the shower that brings pink to Steve’s cheeks and not the fact that Billy Hargrove is looking at him like he’s a meal and like Steve is the only thing he wants to eat. As a joke, and  _ entirely  _ as a joke, he stammers out, “Last time someone looked at me like that I got laid.”

Billy’s eyes darken. “Yeah?” His hand hasn’t stopped travelling down . “That what you want?”

Steve’s breath hitches. He must have misheard. “What?” 

“You wanna get laid? Is that what you’re after?” His breathing slows as his fingers wrap around himself, pumping slowly to get him from half mast to full. “Usually helps me relax--” He cuts off to groan softly.

The sound goes right to Steve’s dick. His mouth dries out, eyes drifting toward Billy's. When that becomes too much he looks toward other boy’s hand. He thinks about how it hasn’t stopped moving since this conversation began. “I--” 

He doesn’t stop moving, Steve’s eyes are glued to his hand. Pumping himself slowly, squeezing minutely around the head. Billy likes to tease himself, and the sight is making it very difficult for Steve to focus on anything else. The shampoo foaming in his hair is entirely forgotten. 

“Tell me, Harrington.” He murmurs and Steve chokes on the implications of that tone.

For a moment, Steve forgets English entirely. After wetting his lips with his tongue he says, “Tell you what?” 

“Tell me what you want.” He prompts, squeezing himself and pulling a moan from his lips. 

Steve doesn’t know what possesses him, but the sound makes him take a step toward Billy. The other doesn’t back away, so Steve takes it as a sign that he can keep approaching. Another four steps and he’s in Billy’s space. “I wanna...touch.” 

Billy lifts his hand away and holds both his arms up as if he were surrendering to him. “Go ahead and touch, pretty boy.” 

And touch he  _ did. _

It doesn't go as Steve imagined. He leans in to get a better view as his palms flatten over the wide plane of Billy's chest. He's all muscle. Toned. Hard. Sculpted. As if he were made to be touched like this. 

He isn't sure what he thought Billy would feel like, but it isn't this. He also, doesn't expect to be immediately turned on the moment his fingers feel Billy's skin. He's been hard before, but never with such an intense and sudden urgency. He wants to lean forward and drag his tongue over every single crease that outlines the muscles on Billy's stomach, but a sound from the locker room startles him.

He whips away so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. Billy chuckles at the image of it. "My place. Tonight. 11:30. Don't be late Harrington." 

The words are a purr thrown over Billy's broad shoulder as he saunters toward the door, completely unabashed about the hardon he's sporting. 


End file.
